


Falling off the wagon

by HElRosa



Category: The Gentlemen (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, F/M, Humiliation, Over the Knee, POV First Person, Punishment, Spanking, Submission, Switching, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HElRosa/pseuds/HElRosa
Summary: Ray deals with a certain young lady in the only way he knows how
Relationships: Laura Pressfield/Raymond Smith
Comments: 18
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extremely niche (by the looks of things) kinky “The Gentlemen” fanfic. If you’ve read my stuff before, you know what to expect, no surprises here. I watched “The Gentlemen” recently, not really expecting to enjoy it, but I did. What I was completely not expecting though was to be so attracted to Charlie Hunnam’s character. His whole aesthetic and the way he talked was doing it for me. I was toast when the whole drug den scene happened. So this is an AU. Let’s imagine Laura is closer to the age of the actress who actually plays her and...she survives. Maybe because Ray has taken her in hand.

“Laura, we need to have a little chat.” 

I recognised his voice instantly. It took me straight back to that day, leaving the flat, leaving them, the journey home, what he had said in the car... I looked around before I replied to check my Mother wasn’t still in the room. 

“Hello Ray.” 

“Hello.” 

I waited for him to continue talking, I was so apprehensive, it was like my heart was rising up and out of my chest. 

“My boys will pick you up tomorrow, 11 O’clock. Make sure you have a good breakfast.” 

“I won’t be up,” I immediately snapped back. 

It was true, I wouldn’t be. There was nothing to be up for. 

“You will be. I’ll see you tomorrow, Laura.” 

And that was it, he hung up on me. I clutched the phone to me for a moment, momentarily paralysed by everything I was feeling. 

“Is everything okay Darling?” 

My mother poked her head around the door, cautious of me, even more than she had been before I left home. I said the first thing that came to my mind. 

“I can’t believe you’d put me in the hands of those thugs again.” 

“We don’t know what else to do.” 

She looked like she was going to cry, yet again. 

“Get out.” 

She went without any argument, her weakness only angered me further. Though I knew she wasn’t to blame and neither was my Father, this was all on me. I’d fallen off the wagon, so to speak. I had my own one small moment of weakness, we all do. I didn’t need Ray to make sure it didn’t happen again. I thought about his parting words on that day again... surely he wouldn’t really do that? 

\--- 

His thugs unceremoniously shoved me into Rays office. We both stayed true to our word; they were at my parents home at 11AM and I was still in bed. I dragged my feet getting out of bed, but I practically kicked and screamed when they took me to the car. Though when I got in there, locked in the back of the car, a weird sort of calm washed over me. That was it, I was resigned to my fate, I was going to Ray. What was the point in fighting the inevitable? 

“Laura,” he greeted me again, just like he had on the phone. 

His voice was like a balm. He had a soft Geordie accent, I would probably barely have noticed it if my ear wasn’t so attuned to Queen’s English that hearing anything else was exotic to me. I didn’t answer him back, I hesitated by the door which was slammed behind me. He was impeccably well dressed, just as he had been the last time I had seen him. Though right now he was less dapper, he was wearing a cardigan, which looked warm and cuddly... why was I even thinking that? 

“Come closer,” he beckoned with his hand. 

It struck me how in control he was of this, of me. My feet moved to obey before I could even think to protest. 

“You look well, you’ve filled out a bit.” 

I flicked my eyes away. Maybe I did look well, I honestly didn’t know. This morning had been the longest amount of time I had spent looking in the mirror, plucking up the courage to even leave my room. I hadn’t been shocked by my appearance, but I was not as pretty as I remembered being before I went down that spiral. I dread to think what I had looked like when I first saw him. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. 

I did as he said, he wasn’t smiling but he didn’t look angry with me at least. My stomach flip flopped, just trying to work out what that meant for me. 

“What did I say would happen if you put a foot out of line?” 

I remembered very clearly, I hadn’t been able to stop repeating it to myself. 

“That you would punish me.” 

“That’s not what I said. Tell me exactly what I said.” 

My face flushed in a way I don’t think it had in years. 

“That you would smack my bottom.” 

“That I would smack your bottom,” he repeated me slowly, enunciating the words. 

“I’m a man of my word and I’ve been asked to do a job. Do you understand?” 

I nodded... and then shook my head. 

“No, I’ve never done this before.” 

I’d never been so much as swatted as a child, the thought of him doing this was just... I had no idea what it was, but it was making me feel too much. 

“No, I expect you haven’t. Well, you don’t have to do very much other than obey and endure.” 

“Is there no other way?” I asked. 

“No.” 

My skin was tingling, especially around my arse and between my thighs. I didn’t want this, just as much as I did want it. What was wrong with me? I needed to stop this. I decided to challenge him. I made myself a little taller, squared my jaw a bit more. 

“I imagine the brief was to straighten me out. So why don’t you just give me a good talking to instead, rather than going fifty shades on me?” 

It didn’t have the desired effect, although I wasn’t quite sure what effect I was aiming for. He laughed softly. 

“My methods always work. Now, we can do this two ways. The easy way or the hard way.” 

He spoke slowly, like I was a child or stupid, or both. 

“The easy way is you pull down your trousers right now and I’ll bring a chair out. I’ll sit on it and you’ll lie over my lap. The hard way is I pull down your trousers and I drag you over my lap. I think you’ll agree one is much more dignified than the other.” 

Neither seemed like very good options to me, so I took a third, I ran. I bolted to the door I’d been brought in through, but I didn’t get very far. I felt his arms encircle me tightly and lift me easily from the floor. I reacted the way any person would, I kicked, I screamed. It didn’t do me any good. I very quickly found myself face down across his lap and regretting my choice of loose jogging bottoms, which he pulled down deftly. I cried out, I felt outraged at his treatment of me and even more enraged by the way it was making me feel. I couldn’t form words to express myself and despite my natural instinct to fight him, my body was responding. There was no doubt about it, I knew I was aroused. He hooked his leg over my flailing legs so that I was straddling just one of his muscular thighs. I was pressed tightly against him, I felt he must be able to feel every inch of me, I could certainly feel a lot of him. He then grabbed one of my arms and wrenched it to rest on my back, where he held it firmly. I was completely immobilised, depending on him to support me. I was already feeling the fight leave me, quickly. It was humbling, to say the least. 

“How did I know you would take the hard way?” He said above me with a sigh. I noted that his free hand rested gently on my bare thigh he had exposed, I couldn’t stop my body’s shuddering response to just that light touch. 

“Next time, Laura, and believe me there will be a next time, there will be no discussion. You won’t give my boys any trouble, you’ll get straight into the car. You’ll come right here and you’ll go straight over my knee, do you understand?” 

I nodded and felt my face flaming. What else could I do other than meekly agree? 

“That’ll do for me,” he said. Then he did the worst thing yet, he pulled down my knickers, shattering what was left of my dignity. 

I made that awful noise again, that noise of outrage. Then it really began. He smacked my bare arse and to me the sound it made was like a shotgun, reverberating around the room. And it hurt. I couldn’t hold back my reaction. 

“Fuck!” 

“I told you it worked,” he remarked drily, then smacked me again. And again. And again. 

At first I tried to count the smacks, to try and maintain some semblance of control but I soon lost count, too lost in the discomfort. I was aware of how ridiculous I must have sounded, crying out loudly, though there were no tears. The hurt was hard to process, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It reminded me a little of the thrill of getting a piercing or a tattoo, except this never stopped and I had no choice but to obey and endure, as he had said. 

“I made a mistake, I’m sorry!” I blurted out when I felt I really could not take even one more slap. 

“I know,” he said. 

He sounded sympathetic, but he didn’t stop. 

“Please!” I tried again and again. Everything I said now seemed to be falling on death ears. 

“Get up,” he eventually said, when his hand stopped crashing down and came to rest on my abused flesh. 

I thought I would scramble desperately off his lap, but I had barely any strength. Instead I crawled and had to clutch onto the fabric of his trousers for support. I came to my knees and temporarily let my forehead loll onto his tweed clad thigh. He gently put his hand on the back of my head and I don’t know how I let it slip, but a huge sob escaped me. I cried right there, making his thigh wet. If anything else existed in that moment I would have been horrified by the state of me, but nothing else did. 

“You’re alright,” he said, “you’ll be okay.” 

When my senses returned I lifted my head and scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand. What had that been all about? I remembered my state of undress and hastily went to pull my knickers back up. 

“Nah ah,” Ray said. “Those stay down.” 

He pulled me up to standing by my arm, then walked me to a corner by the desk. I could see where this was going. He positioned me so I was facing the corner. 

“Stay there,” he said. “Think about what you need to do to be a better person.” 

I’d seen what he was capable of, I didn’t think he had any right to lecture me on good behaviour but I wasn’t going to argue with him, not when he had just given me a mother of a reason not to. I was left there for a while and nothing occupied my thoughts other than how much my arse was aching now and how red it must look, let alone how to be a ‘better person’. The temptation to reach back and feel was fierce, but something told me I’d better not. 

“Come and take her home, please. Knock before you come in,” I heard him speak on the phone behind me. 

“You can come out now," he said to me. 

I pulled my knickers up before I turned and tried to avoid eye contact as I stumbled around his desk in my haste to get my discarded trousers back on. 

“Is there a toilet?” I asked, avoiding his eyes which I knew were on me. I was intensely aware of how sticky I was between my legs, I needed to sort that out. 

“The door in the far right corner,” he said. 

The WC was well appointed, though it’s fixtures and fittings were not foremost in my mind. I winced as I cleaned myself up. Had he seen all that wetness, had he felt it? I heard a hard knock at the door of his study. 

“Wait,” he called. 

I straightened my appearance quickly then re-entered the study. Ray looked me up and down, then his eyes rested on mine. 

“You won’t be any trouble on the way back, will you Laura?” 

He looked at me pointedly. 

“No,” I said. 

“And if you have to come here again, you won’t be a cunt again, will you?” 

I smiled at the insult. Smiling felt like it cracked my face, I so rarely smiled these days. 

“Because we know what happens to little cunts like you, don’t we?” 

“Yes.” 

God, was I blushing again? 

“Good girl.” 

Christ, from cunt to good girl, why was that such a turn on? 

“She’s ready,” he called towards the door and then his ‘boys’ were here. 

I looked at him before I left, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. The sick bastard had enjoyed it, I bet probably more than I had. I knew he’d find a reason to have me back here soon and not because I’d fallen off the wagon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew it would happen again very soon... it's the same old kink so if you aren't into that or get bored of it very quickly, then I would say skip this chapter. But if you're like me and you never tire of it, then you will love this. Enjoy!

I’d not felt like this in a long time; like I had friends. Though for me friends came with certain caveats; pubs, booze, fags, you know. The usual vices. I’d been tee total for three months until now. I hadn’t been completely free of cigarettes, but two out of three wasn’t bad. I can’t say ditching the drink had made me feel much better, but ditching the other stuff, the really bad stuff, had. We’d started early doors, it was now around 10PM and I was reaching that fine threshold; do I stop now, whilst I have that nice, warm fuzzy feeling? Or do I push a little bit further? Do I go to those depths the worst parts of me have missed? An acquaintance, some hanger on, then showed me something that made my decision even harder. I felt her brush my leg and I looked down at my thigh, what was in her hand was unmistakable. I automatically looked up, accessing my surroundings, this was a nice place, a classy establishment. Security here would be alert to the signs so it wouldn’t be easy to take this, but I knew ways. I stretched out my fingers, the tips brushing her palm, then I stopped. I closed my fist again. No. I had made it this far, I couldn’t go back there now. I abruptly stood up, making myself look even more guilty in the process. 

“I have to go,” I said. 

I hope it looked like something had been said to upset me and it was nothing more than that, though a trained eye would know better. But I didn’t much care, this for me was a small victory and I had to take them when they came. It was at that moment when I had made my decision and I looked around, trying to remember where the cloakroom was that I set eyes on him. He was looking right at me, I wondered how much he had seen and understood. Hopefully nothing, he had female company and she was quite beautiful, surely his attention would be on her. Fuck him, I thought. 

\--- 

The dreaded phone call, which deep down I knew was going to happen, came the next day. This time on my mobile. The number was withheld but it had to be him. For a moment I wondered how he had got my number, though what did it really matter? I shortly contemplated just letting it ring through but I realised that wouldn’t change the outcome, if anything it would make it worse. 

“Ray?” I answered. 

“Clever girl,” he responded. “though maybe not so clever after all. You were the shiftiest fucker in that place last night.” 

A bizarre sense of joy exploded in me on hearing his voice, it was quickly replaced by despair. It was certainly inevitable now, but nevertheless, I tried pleading my case. 

“If you’re that observant you will have noticed I didn’t take it. I’ve been clean, ever since you took me home.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” 

“What do you want then?” 

There was a pause before he answered in a low and dangerous tone. 

“I don’t like your tone. Drop it. Now.” 

I didn’t respond, I just gulped, like a cartoon character. 

“That’s better,” he said. “You put yourself in the way of temptation. That was very stupid. My boys will pick you up, in lets say, one hour. How does that sound to you?” 

“It sounds undoable.” 

“There’s that tone again. You’re talking yourself into getting a very sore bottom.” 

I squirmed at his words. 

“Please may I ask something? I don’t mean it to sound disrespectful,” I said. 

“I advise you tread carefully, but fire away.” 

I struggled to find the correct words. I didn’t want to sound like it mattered to me, and really it didn’t, but... 

“Is your... lady friend with you?” 

He laughed softly. 

“No. I never mix business with pleasure. I made sure she got home safely, very early this morning.” 

Was this business? Or was it pleasure? Or was he talking about something else entirely? 

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure no one would hear, you know...” 

He ignored that and just said, “be ready in one hour.” 

“Wait!” 

“Yes?” he sounded surprised at the urgency in my voice. 

“Please don’t send them to pick me up. My Mum and Dad are in. They’ll know. If you give me your address I’ll come to you.” 

“Not a chance. Maybe some other time, but not today.” 

“Please?” I tried one last time to reason with him, one last pathetic attempt. 

“I said no. Don’t get yourself into more trouble.” 

“Okay,” I sighed. 

“One hour,” he repeated, then he hung up. 

\--- 

This time I was dignified. I even said hello back when they greeted me. Of course my parents saw the car pick me up, how could they miss it? But they didn’t say anything. They knew they’d made a deal with the devil. I just hoped they didn’t think I was whoring myself out. I stopped caring a long time ago what they thought of me, but for some reason, it struck me as important that they knew I wasn’t doing that. That at least I hadn’t sunk that low. 

His ‘boys’ dropped me off in the same place as last time, his study. Today the sun was bright and streaming in through the huge window behind his desk. Last time it had been misty and I had been in a state of shock, so I didn’t pay much attention to the window. However, today was different, I was different, the weather was different and if anyone walked past that window they would see everything. Ray was suitably attired, as usual, a neat shirt and waistcoat combination. I took a step forward when the door closed behind me but he raised his hand from where he sat behind his desk, stopping me. He was reading a newspaper. 

“Let me finish this article,” he said. 

“You still read newspapers?” I asked without thought. This was now the digital age, even my parents didn’t read newspapers. 

He looked up from his paper. 

“Yes. I’m old fashioned. You might have noticed. Now stay there and shut up. Or you can press your nose in that corner,” he gestured lazily to the corner he had made me stand in last time. 

He levelled me with a stern look and when I was suitably chastened enough to blush, he went back to reading. He made me wait for maybe only a couple of minutes, but time seemed to stretch on much longer than that. 

“That was interesting,” he eventually said, mildly, and put his paper aside. He then put his left hand to his right and removed a signet ring from his pinky finger, he placed it in a drawer in his desk. I’d never noticed that last time. He saw me looking. 

“I wouldn’t want this to get in the way. That would be cruel and unusual punishment. You can come closer now.” 

I walked forward. 

“That’s far enough,” he said when I reached his desk. 

He gave me a long look, up and down my body, it was impossible not to tremble when he was looking at me so intently. 

“You’re much improved,” he commented. 

I was. I hadn’t washed my hair but I’d tied it back, which helped to control it’s unruliness. I’d put a little make up on as well, just a bit of lipstick which doubled up as a blush. It helped me look more alive. I felt a little bigger at his compliment. 

“So it’s a shame about last night,” he finished, artfully delivering a sucker punch to my fragile ego. 

“It was just a night out. I started early doors, finished early doors,” I replied, mindful of making sure my tone was amenable to him. He hadn’t been very impressed with me on the phone earlier. 

“Aye. Did that have anything to do with my appearance?” 

Should I lie? I had to, I couldn’t let him know how close I had got to falling... I shook my head, it wasn’t as big a lie if I didn’t say it. 

He tutted at me, shaking his head back at me slowly, then he rose even more slowly from behind his desk. He stopped in front of me and he was very close, he looked down on me from his greater height. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose before speaking. 

“Do you know what happens to little girls who lie?” 

I grimaced. 

“They get their bottoms smacked?” 

His face split into a grin, the biggest smile I’d ever seen him give. 

“That’s the correct answer. They do. And they get it worse, much worse.” 

He wagged his finger at me, “let me see what I can find.” 

He went back to his desk and fumbled around, opening some drawers, rummaging through some, slamming others as fast as they had been opened. 

“Aha! Here it is!” 

He pulled out a large hairbrush. It was an old Mason Pearson, wooden and well used by the looks of the tarnish on the back. Don’t ask me how I knew. This was the Rolls Royce of hairbrushes. One thing I could say for my parents is that they had always made sure I had the best of everything, including hairbrushes. I should have been wondering why he had it but I knew that was about to be used on my backside so I didn’t spend much time pondering. Though one thing that was immediately obviously was that it had never touched a hair on anyone's head in its life, yes it was well used, but not for its intended purpose. 

“This is a trusted and very reliable friend of mine,” he said, smacking it into the palm of his left hand. 

I'm not ashamed to admit it, I started crying. Last time had been almost unbearable, in fact I wouldn’t have borne it if he hadn’t been holding me in place. How was I going to survive this? And it wasn’t just the thought of it making me cry, it was him. He could claim to be somebody who simply worked for a powerful man all he liked but underneath the thin veneer of gentility, he was a thug. 

“It’s a bit too late for all that. You’ve been pushing me,” he said, no hint of sympathy in his voice whatsoever. 

“I’ve been trying, you don’t know how hard it is.” 

“Oh boo fucking hoo. If you can’t do the time, you don’t do the crime.” 

“I haven’t committed any crimes.” 

“To me you have.” 

With that he placed the hairbrush on the desk, the sharp sound of wood on wood ringing in my ears. He then turned around that chair he had used last time. I weakly allowed him to pull me over his lap when he grabbed my wrist. 

“You know, what royally pisses me off,” he said as he set about undressing me. 

I had purposefully worn jeans as I felt perhaps they would slow things down and they did a little, but not by much, after a little fumbling around my hips his fingers found the button and zipper and he was shimmying them down around my thighs. 

“Is that you’re crying and I haven’t even given you something to cry about yet. Feeling sorry for your little self. I’m not punishing you for having a good time. I’m punishing you for even considering that dirty crack and I’m giving you extra for mouthing off.” 

Now he had my knickers down. I was still crying, if anything his words were making me cry more. It was a minor mercy when I felt the slap of his hand and not the hairbrush. But I wasn’t so naïve to think that meant I had got away with it. I was soon wriggling, instinctively trying to get away from his punishing hand. He locked my legs beneath one of his again and when my hand shot out in a desperate attempt to protect my quivering arse he pinned that down too. When he stopped I felt like he’d already given me a good roasting and I think that would have been enough. The message had already been received, loud and clear. I took advantage of his temporary release of my arm to frantically rub and squeeze my cheeks. He quickly grasped my hand and he straightened it out so that my palm was facing upwards. Then to my horror I felt the cool wood of the hairbrush on my hand. I renewed my struggles. 

“Hold your hand out like that. I’ll give you just two on your hand to teach you not to rub. Then you’re getting the hairbrush on your arse. If you try to avoid it we will carry on for longer. My hand might tire out but this thing never does. Do you understand?” 

He gave me a full body shake when I didn’t immediately respond. 

“Yes!” I yelled out. 

“Good,” he said then rained down the two strokes on my palm in quick succession. 

“Fuck!” 

When he released my hand I wrung it out, trying to dissipate the fierce sting. 

“I don’t need to hold your arm back now do I?” he asked. 

“No!” 

“Damn right,” he said then plunged me into a world of hell. 

The brush brought me to new heights of agony. I wondered how in these months that had passed I had often found myself looking back on the first time, almost fondly, yearning for that tingling sensation down there. Well, this sharply reminded me it had never existed. It was just rose-tinted specs. I resorted to begging him to stop again, which was as successful as it had been last time. Though of course it did eventually stop, but not until I felt completely and utterly destroyed. He let me cry it out over his lap as he held me in place, his hand resting on my burning backside and his other firmly on my back. There were no words of comfort, but feeling his strength was enough. He helped me to my feet and dragged me to the ominous corner. 

“Get on your knees,” he said, pushing down on my shoulders. 

“Can you support yourself?” he asked, his hands still on my shoulders. 

I nodded. 

“Okay.” 

His hands left my shoulder and one briefly stroked the top of my head and ran down the length of my ponytail, my hair running pleasantly between his fingers before he left me there. He told me to get up just as my knees were starting to get sore, layering on top of the burning of my backside. 

“You can use the toilet again if you need to.” 

At his prompting I did, hastily removing the evidence of my arousal and shuddering at how needy I felt down there. I heard him on the phone, asking for me to be collected. 

“I told you you’d be back here, didn’t I?” he said genially when I came out. 

I smiled shyly but didn’t answer. Though a thought was nagging me and I needed to share it with him whilst I had the chance. 

“Why do you do this?” I asked. 

He looked thoughtful before he answered. 

“You weren’t like those other idiots. I saw something in you. I could see I might be able to help. I’m no good Samaritan but I’m not a monster. If I can do a good deed, then I do.” 

“But... why this?” 

He smiled again. 

“It’s the British kink, isn’t it? I like it. I’m good at it. And you’re a naughty girl.” 

I felt my face blushing so red I hoped a hole would suddenly appear and swallow me up. 

“Can I go home now?” I asked. 

“Yes you may.” 

“She’s ready!” he yelled in the direction of the door. 

It opened and I wondered how much of that they heard and if they heard anything that happened before our conversation. I quickly shut down that line of thought because it wouldn’t do me any good. 

“Bye,” I said quietly. 

“Goodbye, Laura.” 

Him using my name was almost like an aphrodisiac to me, sending zings through me. I left that day, knowing for sure I was looking forward to the next time. I didn’t fully understand it but what did it matter? Like he said, he liked it. I did too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when I write stuff when I’m tired. I couldn’t sleep and here is the result. Warning: this one is a tad more sadistic in tone but I’m sure nothing you can’t handle if you're still coming here.

I pounded on his door so hard it hurt my knuckles. When he didn’t answer I shouted through the letterbox. I couldn’t believe how easy it had been to find him. It was just a case of asking my Dad a few seemingly innocuous questions about Rays nefarious boss, piecing together what I had learnt from my two journeys here and voila, here I was. 

“Hello!” I shouted again, loudly when there was still no answer. 

The lights are on but no one is home... except someone is home, I don’t know. All I know for sure is that I’ve had too much to drink. Then finally I see a shadow approaching the door, not a moment too soon as I’m freezing my tits off out here and it’s raining. The door opens and my mouth gapes wide open on seeing Ray. I just expected one of his cronies to answer the door, maybe he doesn’t have round the clock security, seems stupid for a gangster. Though he looks pretty pissed off, maybe that’s why he answered himself... I think it may be the latter. Actually, I think this is a bad idea. I put my hand to my coat pocket and look for my phone so I can call a cab to take me back home. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asks me, angrily. 

He doesn’t shout. His voice sounds a little hoarse, he’s clearly just been woken from his sleep. I can see that his usually neat and tidy hair is a bit skew whiff. I giggle to myself, then he grabs my arm, quite hard and half lifts, half drags me up the step and across the threshold into his house. I gasp when I see a man with a gun. 

“Fucking put it away,” Ray grumbles, still keeping a tight grip on me. 

The man slips the gun back into its hiding place and Ray is fast taking me somewhere. 

“Are you going to spank me?” I ask, not caring that we aren’t out of earshot of the other man. 

“When you’re sober,” Ray replies. 

I’m taken up some stairs and deposited into a bedroom, a guest room by the looks of it. 

“You’re going to bed. Undress yourself,” he says. 

I throw my coat on the floor and he picks it up to hang up on a hook on the back of the bedroom door, I snort at how finickity he is. I struggle with the buttons on my blouse and resort to tearing at the thin silky fabric in an attempt to get it off me. 

“Christ,” Ray swears and takes over from me. 

He soon has me stripped down to nothing but my underwear. He pulls back the warm and inviting looking duvet on the bed and I flop into bed without invitation. He fusses around me and I’m vaguely aware of him folding up my clothes, but after that, I don’t sense anything, I’m out like a light. 

\--- 

I wake up with the mother of all headaches. Conveniently there’s a glass of water and two painkillers left on the bedside table by my side. I take them without thought. My phone is there too and I check the time. It’s around 7AM, that means I can try and get some more sleep. Not that the time really matters. It’s not like I have a job or responsibilities. I lie back and think about how I got in this strange room, it’s not the first time I’ve woken up in unknown surroundings, but I had hoped it would be the last... it takes me a moment to gather my thoughts and I come to a sickening realisation. I’m in Rays house. 

“Shit!” I swear out loud and suddenly I feel so much better. I need to get out of here, now. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” I repeat to myself as I hastily pull on my clothes Ray has left beautifully folded on the chest of the drawers. 

“Morning,” his voice comes from the door. 

I jump in shock. He looks immaculate, like he was up and showered hours ago. 

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asks. 

“No, thank you,” I shake my head. 

“Have some,” he says, “I’ll show you to the kitchen.” 

“No really,” I say, “I need to go home.” 

He holds up his hand to silence me. 

“All in good time. There’s no rush.” 

I dare not argue with him or even apologise for my actions so I simply follow him when he turns away. 

“Coffee?” he asks me when we reach his kitchen, fit to be in one of those country lifestyle magazines my Mother loves reading. 

“Yes please,” I answer. 

He asks me how I take it and he pours one for me from a freshly prepared cafetiere. He offers me a simple breakfast of buttered toast, rightly assuming it’s all I can stomach right now. He leaves the kitchen and me to my breakfast but returns shortly after I’ve finished. I’m surprised by how fast I consumed it all, I must have been famished. 

“Come with me to the study. You have some explaining to do,” he announces and I barely repress a groan. 

We make it to his now familiar study and when we get there he tells me to sit on the couch by the fire, which I have never been invited to use. He sits adjacent to me in a neighbouring armchair, he doesn’t seem angry with me and that worries me. He leans back and casually rests his head on the backs of his fingers. He looks at me, as if he is waiting for something. I don’t know how I’m going to explain myself, but I need to start trying. I lean forward and wring my hands together, I’m so anxious I start to rub the skin of my wrists, an old habit which I thought had died after he’d taken me home. It was the one thing I seemed to have been able to easily kick so I felt dismayed to see I was wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, I had to start somewhere. He didn’t say anything and simply continued watching me. 

“I was drunk. I found out your address, obviously. I’m not a stalker or anything, I just hadn’t seen you in a while and I needed your help.” 

“Why?” he asked, “have you done something bad?” 

“No, I’ve just been a bit sad recently.” 

I didn’t know how to explain it. Sad. Exhausted. I craved it so bad right now that sometimes I could only get to sleep when I imagined him doing it. 

“Is turning up at my house uninvited the best way to get what you want?” he asked me, seeming to read my mind. 

“No. I am sorry, truly. It won’t happen again.” 

“You’re fucking right, it won’t happen again.” 

Now he looked more annoyed with me. I didn’t know what was scarier, annoyed Ray or calm Ray. He leaned towards me and steepled his hands together. 

“I can’t have this. Let me make it very clear to you. I don’t care how drunk or out of your mind you get, if you come here again without me inviting you, you will not like the consequences. I’m not talking about a bit of slap and tickle, I can put you back in that shit hole where I found you. You don’t want that do you? Or do you?” 

“Sometimes I think I do,” I said quietly. 

“Don’t tell me how hard it is again. You’ll just piss me off even more. You’re ungrateful and entitled.” 

I looked away from him and focused on the roaring fire. I couldn’t stand the disgusted look in his eyes. 

“Look at me,” he demanded. “You need to hear this.” 

I reluctantly dragged my eyes back to him, his expression softened a little. 

“I still believe there is some good in you, but you need to check yourself into rehab if me giving you a good hiding is the only thing keeping you going. Seriously.” 

“It isn’t,” I snapped back at him. 

I did not want him thinking I depended on him. 

“Well, if that’s true, that’s good,” he said softly. 

We sat for a couple more moments in silence before he spoke again. 

“Anyway, I’m a busy man and you are not a guest I chose to have so you need to get going soon. I’ll have one of the lads drive you home.” 

“Are you not going to-” I blurted out, but didn’t finish the sentence. 

“Spank you? As you put it last night.” 

“God,” I groaned. “Did I say anything else stupid?” 

If I didn’t feel so lacking in all kinds of bodily fluids right now I probably would have blushed. 

“Not that I remember. But in answer to your question. Yes. Something short and sharp. It’s on the desk. Waiting for you.” 

That didn’t sound good. My eyes swivelled slowly, hardly daring to look. I had to squint to make it out as it blended into the oak of his desk. 

“Is that a branch?” I asked, frowning. 

“Yes.” 

“What the fuck?” 

If I didn’t still have drink in me I’m sure I wouldn’t have said that. 

“Don’t swear at me unless you want a back hander as well. Go and get it.” 

I didn’t think he was the type to knock around women but looking at him right now, I wouldn’t put it past him. Especially with me. I guess if it wasn’t a closed fist it still counted as ‘discipline’ when it came to me. I sulkily got to my feet and picked up the branch. It was thin and felt pretty flimsy. I almost threw it at him rather than hand it to him. I wasn’t scared of that thing. 

“We are feeling brave, aren’t we?” he commented as he took it from me. 

I wasn’t so sure, he quickly killed any bravado I did have with his cool demeanour. 

“Bare your arse,” he ordered. 

I frowned. 

“But you’ll see... everything.” 

“I’ve already seen everything, you idiot. And do you think I give a shit about your dignity right now?” he said coldly. 

I guessed not. My flesh prickled as he stripped myself down for him- I mean, in front of him. He didn’t take his eyes off me the whole time and I know he was looking, right between my legs. This was beyond mortifying. I waited once I was done but he didn’t immediately order me to do anything else. Instead he let me stew, just stand there exposed. Bastard. When he did make his next move, he was rough with me. He took my arm and pulled me around the back of the sofa I had just been sitting on. 

“Hold on to this,” he said, “do not let go.” 

He pulled my hips so that my arse was sticking out, providing him with a prime target. He then wrapped his arm around my waist and held me to him so there was no escape. I flinched when I felt the light tap of the branch on my bare flesh. 

“This is barbaric,” I muttered. 

“You don’t know the meaning of the word,” he said then he began whipping me and fuck me, it hurt. 

It was like a thousand bees stinging me continually. I didn’t know how such a tiny thing could inflict so much damage. I swore and yelled enough that I think in any other house, someone would come to my aid, but not here. By now I was confident someone had heard me all the previous times. 

“Please stop, I’ll take anything else! Even the hairbrush!” 

I couldn’t stand the implement or the position, it kept me on my toes, literally. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” he said glibly and carried on mercilessly. 

To my horror, he only stopped when I heard the sharp snap of the branch against my flesh. 

“Oh shit,” he said. “Well, I think the lesson has been learned.” 

He let me go and tossed the broken branch into the open fire. I took the opportunity to rub away as much of the sting as I could. I hadn't cried but my eyes were wet, like my whole body had seeped with everything it had to withstand the pain he’d inflicted on me. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he simply said to me, looking quite pleased with himself. 

Don’t cry now, don’t cry now I repeated in my head. He didn’t wait for a response or offer me any kind of small comfort. 

“Go now before I actually whip your skin off you,” he said. 

I didn’t waste any time getting dressed. When I was finished he shocked me by pulling me into a bone crushing hug. 

“Don’t come here again without permission. I mean it,” he said into my ear, then abruptly let me go. 

I just about held it together. 

“Thank you,” I said before I left. 

He simply grunted back at me, but I’d take that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know me by now - this chapter is same old. So don’t like, don’t read. For those of you that do choose to read, I hope you enjoy it!

I took Ray’s advice and checked myself into rehab. I won’t say it’s performed miracles for me, but it has helped. My parents finally allowed me to try living on my own again, at my big age, I might add. I purposefully chose a place I’d have to commute to London from. Yes, you heard me right. I have to commute, I have a job now, of sorts. I got back into music again, sadly not my own. But I do write songs and jingles and most importantly, I get paid for it. It’s not my dream, but it’s a step in the right direction. So my little ground floor flat is a far cry from the London scene and anything that’s going on there, but it keeps me safe. Tonight, I’d lulled myself into a content feeling of boredom with a Netflix binge session, then a knock at my door jolted me from it. Nobody came to visit me here other than my parents, largely because few people knew I was here, so this was a surprise. I hit ‘pause’ and put my bowl of crisps aside that I was munching on, then went to answer the door. 

“What have I done now?” I mumbled to myself when I saw Rays unmistakable outline through the frosted glass. 

That was my first thought, my second thought was that it was kind of nice to see him. 

“Hi Ray,” I greeted him cordially. 

“Hi Laura, can I come in?” 

Memories of the last time he had visited me at my home flashed through my mind. I say ‘home’, it was more like a hovel at the time. I hope he was more impressed by what he saw this time. I looked around him anxiously before I let him in. 

“Are you on your own?” I asked. 

“Yes, I’ve left the reinforcements in the car this time.” 

I scowled. 

“Why do they need to be here? I haven’t done anything-” 

He cut me off. 

“Don’t argue, Laura,” his tone was firm, “this is a wellbeing check, I was passing through the area.” 

I stood aside to let him in. 

“Be my guest,” I mumbled. 

I followed him as he made his way into my living space. I watched him, with my arms folded across my chest defensively, as he made his way around, casting an exacting eye over everything. 

“Nice little place you have here,” he said approvingly. 

“Thank you,” I said, a bit shocked. 

This was nothing compared to my parents palatial pile or his more modest, though incredibly gorgeous and middle class home. 

“Untidy though,” he added. 

“Oh Ray,” I grumbled. 

That wasn’t a smart move, Ray didn’t look too happy with me. 

“You disagree, do you? Sit down,” He said and pointed to my couch. 

He was inviting me to sit in my own home now? I bit back the retort and did as he told me to. He then opened my dishwasher and I could hear him actually sniffing it. 

“When are you planning on emptying this?” he said, looking back at me over his shoulder. “You have a whole load of stuff here that’s piling up and stinking more every day.” 

I followed his eyes to the kitchen counter, next to the sink. 

“I’ll do it when you leave,” I answered. 

“Dare I look in the bathroom?” he then asked, while he straightened himself up. 

“Please don’t,” I immediately snapped back. 

A disgusted look crossed his face then he started to look through my kitchen drawers. 

“What are you doing?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. 

“I’ve found what I wanted,” he said when he withdrew a wooden spoon. 

I groaned. I knew I should have thrown that out when my parents brought it for me as part of the essentials for the kitchen. 

“I don’t need your-” I paused, not wanting to put a name to it, “help, Ray.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that. These are breeding grounds for bacteria,” he said, holding up the spoon for me. 

Thank God, I thought, I had been saved. 

“So when I’m finished with this, it will be stored somewhere other than your kitchen drawer.” 

Fuck. 

“No, Ray,” I said. 

He approached me with the spoon, his quiet and unassuming demeanour changing at the drop of a hat. 

“Who the fuck do you think you’re saying no to?” he asked. 

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to save myself.” 

“Well you’re not. You’re digging yourself a bigger hole. Stand up.” 

I did, his words causing a rush of wet warmth to build between my legs. He sat in the place I’d vacated and he gestured for me to stand in front of him. 

“I’m glad to see you’re doing much better, Laura.” 

“Don’t look so surprised,” he added at my expression. “You are, this is a far cry from that shit hole I found you in. However,” he held up the spoon to me, “if you don’t keep on top of cleanliness you could end up with rodents and you don’t want that, do you?” 

I shook my head. 

“Use your words.” 

“No Sir.” 

He smiled. 

“Fucking hell. I don’t know where that came from, but I’ll take it. We’ll have more of that in the future, thank you.” 

I smiled too. 

“Now, pull down your pants,” he said, replacing his smile with a sterner face. “and lie over my lap,” he finished when I obeyed him. 

I pulled a cushion to me as he adjusted my position over his thighs. I had missed how warm and firm his thighs felt supporting my weight. I sharply inhaled when he pulled down my knickers and he rubbed his capable hand over my backside, I could feel his signet ring. I looked over my shoulder to ask him to remove it, but he gently pushed my head back down. 

“Don’t worry, I was just... Admiring.” 

I smiled to myself. I felt lucky he wanted to pay me any attention at all, but him liking my ass was icing on the cake. I pushed myself up into his palm when I felt his fingers squeeze into my flesh, this was different and definitely pleasurable. 

“Well then,” he said and patted my backside, not finishing his thought when he delivered the first smack. 

I jolted forward at the force of his hand, though the sofa absorbed the impact of my body’s movements. The steady rise and fall of his hand soon had me wriggling, which was inevitably followed by me crying out. Though I tried to keep noise down, aware that neighbours may overhear me. It was bad enough knowing Rays cronies had heard me being spanked before, but at least I didn’t have to see them every day. I resorted to muffling my cries in my cushion. Ray thankfully stopped and praised me. 

“You’re taking this incredibly well, let’s see how you fair with this.” 

He tapped me with the spoon and I tried to dodge the first stroke, my instinct to protect myself taking over. 

“Ah,” he admonished me, “I don’t think so.” 

He cracked the spoon down on my reddened ass and I shrieked. The spoon was definitely not my friend. He peppered my ass with dozens more strokes, I discovered later that each of them left small round, raised welts, which was no surprise given how awful it had felt being delivered at the time. I was proud of myself that when he told me I could get up, there were no tears. I was flushed red all over my body and sweating with the effort it took to withstand his efforts but he hadn’t broken me. 

“Take off your joggers and knickers completely,” he said when I was stood before him again. 

I wondered why but I had learned not to question, so I did what I was told. He held the spoon out to me. 

“Find a place for this right now. It can be a hiding place if you’re worried about somebody coming across it, but it does not go anywhere in the kitchen. Just find a place, do not pass go.” 

He reached around to give me one final whack with the spoon before letting me take it from his hand. I yelped but didn’t try to rub the sting away under his watchful eyes. I went straight to my room and put it in one of my clothing drawers, it was the most obvious place to me. I returned to him as soon as I was done. 

“That was quick. Good girl,” he said shortly. 

Shit, I enjoyed hearing that too much. 

“Listen carefully to my next instructions,” he continued, “empty the dishwasher and load it again. Anything that doesn’t fit, I will handwash for you.” 

“Like this?” I balked, looking down at my bare legs. 

My t-shirt covered my pussy and ass but it wouldn’t when I bent over. 

“Exactly like that. Or you can come back over my knee and we can try my belt? It’s a classic.” 

“No thank you,” I quickly replied. 

My ass throbbed the entire time I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher and I was very much aware that every time I bent, his eyes would be on my ass and exposed pussy, the slick folds of which must have been visible to him. He kept to his word and came beside me to start washing the dishes I couldn’t fit in the dishwasher. 

“You dry,” he said, handing me a clean tea towel he’d found stored in a cupboard. 

He struck up a conversation with me about my work and it was nice to be asked about it, especially by him, I don’t think I’d ever had a normal conversation with him. When we finished he picked up a bottle of spray sanitiser and started to wipe down the kitchen surfaces. 

“I do that already,” I grumbled. 

“I know,” he replied, “but it does need to be done regularly.” 

He caught any crumbs in a piece of kitchen rool and deposited them in my bin. 

“The next things you need to do are empty your bin and hoover this place. I won’t stay to watch you do that, but be aware this won’t be the last time I check on you. I think you still need some maintenance,” he said. 

“Maintenance spankings?” I asked. 

His face opened into a smile again. 

“Have you been doing some research?” he asked. 

I shrugged. 

“You could call it that,” he said. 

He put everything away that he had used then waved me closer to him. 

“Come here,” he said, then he wrapped his arms around me and placed a soft kiss on top of my head. 

He held me for a moment, letting me rest my head against his strong chest. If he hadn’t gently pushed me away I would have stayed there for a long time. He gripped the tops of my arms and held me in front of him at arms length. 

“I’m proud of you girl, keep your chin up.” 

He chucked me under the chin, reinforcing his words. 

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you, from afar, but if you need anything.” 

He dipped his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a card. My eyes bulged out of my head. 

“Are you giving me your number?” I asked. 

“Don’t get too excited, it’s a business card.” 

“Do gangsters need business cards?” 

“Oi, watch your mouth. I will come back here with a bar of soap and wash your mouth out if you don’t mind your manners around me.” 

I believed him. 

“Yes Sir.” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head at the term. 

“Stop trying to get in my head. I do the mind fucking here, amongst other things, not you,” he said. 

I allowed myself a self-satisfied smile as he turned away from me. 

“I’ll let myself out, you don’t want the whole street seeing your cunt.” 

He flashed me a grin, then left. I put my hand on my warmed backside, he really hadn’t given me much motivation to keep on top of this place. God, I was going to find myself using that number, wasn’t I?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another little something. I'd be very curious to know what you think of this one. Enjoy!

BANG. BANG. BANG. 

I’m awakened by rapid, hard knocks on my front door. It is quickly followed by my phone buzzing. Figuring that the two are connected I drag myself out of bed and go to the front door. I’m half awake, half asleep and a small part of me is worried that there is an emergency; maybe my Mum or Dad has had a horrible accident. I open the front door and immediately see that the cause of the disturbance is Ray, which is even more confusing. 

“What do you want?” I ask blearily. 

“Can I come in?” 

I can tell by his soft tone that something isn’t right. I stand aside and wave him in. 

“There’s something you need to see,” he says once he’s inside, then holds his phone in front of my eyes. 

I take it from him without asking. I see a montage of low quality pictures on a gossipy newspaper website. The pictures are of a young, waspish girl. She’s naked, although her private bits have been pixelated. 

“What is this?” I ask with a frown, before I come to a sickening realisation. 

That girl is me. 

“God, do you think my parents have seen these?” I hold the phone away from me, wanting to be rid of it and he quickly takes it. 

It’s one thing to be their famous smack-head daughter, in my opinion it’s quite a different thing entirely to be a Paris Hilton wannabe. Actually it was worse than that, at least she got famous off her sex tape. What was I going to get off some crappy nudie pics? 

“Probably not yet,” he replied, “this went live early hours of this morning. We are trying to get them taken down and I promise you, we will. But some damage will already have been done, I’m sorry.” 

Ray did look genuinely sorry for me. 

“What do I do now?” I asked him. 

“I would say stay low, but you're already quite low’” he says, looking around him with a mild expression of disdain on his face. 

“Well thanks! That’s not what you said last time you were here!” 

I’m angry at him, for no other reason than that I have no one else to direct my anger at. 

“You know that’s not what I meant. I just meant that this isn’t exactly a celebrity hotspot. Anyway, don’t despair. I have a plan.” 

I looked at him expectantly. 

“You can come and stay with me for a bit.” 

Had I heard him correctly? This was coming from the man who went mad at me when I came over to his unannounced, admittedly I was rat arsed, but even so. 

“Why would I do that?” I asked. 

“Because your parents or here isn’t safe. The press will find out where you live and you’ll be hounded. Nobody would ever guess you were staying with me and I’m not well known enough for anyone to care. I don’t want you to fall off the wagon again.” 

He was right. I’d never liked having my photograph taken, I certainly wasn’t going to enjoy not being able to get out of my own front door and when I felt stressed, it was perfect grounds for me to get back into the worst kinds of shit. The kind of shit that allowed me to lower my guard so much that I would allow a one night stand to take those photos of me. 

“Go and get enough things together for a few nights. We’ll see where we go from there,” Ray said, not waiting for me to give my consent to his plan. 

He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, then sent me on my way. 

—- 

It didn’t take long for me to get into trouble as Ray’s guest. I was given everything I needed and I had work to keep me going, I could write music ‘from home’. So it wasn’t that boredom had got me into trouble, simply existing was what did it. Ray was out all day and I was left in the house with one other person, I guess a security guard. A cleaner came in to do her job and that was it. I had been told I could go where I like so I did, I found his kitchen cosy so when I got sick of being cooped in the guest room I had been parked in I camped out there, setting myself up at the kitchen island. When Ray finally returned it was quite late. He came through to the kitchen accompanied by two of his men I recognised from previous encounters and he greeted me with a glare when he saw me. 

“Go to your room,” he said to me coolly. 

I flushed at being spoken to like I was a child in front of these men, though thankfully I had reason to not go back to my room just yet, so I stood my ground. 

“Wait a minute,” I replied, “I’m just finishing up something, you said I could go where I want, so...” I shrugged my shoulders and pointedly kept my gaze on the screen on my MacBook. 

“Go to your room,” he repeated through gritted teeth. 

I could hear the warning signs, but I ignored them anyway. 

“Yeah, I said one minute.” 

“NOW!” 

He roared at me. He was quite honestly a completely different man. He was more like the Ray I remembered from the day he picked me up from the ‘shit hole’, as he liked to call it. He spoke to other people like that, but not to me. I knew better than to push him even more so I picked up my Macbook and scarpered, with my tail between my legs. 

—- 

I slept uneasily that night, my sleep coming in fits and starts. When Ray came into my room I had already woken from a light bout of sleep. He sat heavily on the bed next to me and put his hand on my head, he stroked my hair briefly, then gently wiped my curtain of hair from my face. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said when he saw I had my eyes open, “I was just checking you’re okay.” 

He spoke in a hushed voice though there was no need, even if there was someone else in the house, it might as well have been just me and him, it was so quiet here. 

“I’m okay,” I replied. 

This felt very nice but it was strange and out of character for him. He always comforted me after spanking me but he was never this tender with me, this felt affectionate. It dawned on me what he might be here for. 

“Are you going to punish me?” I asked. 

“Why would you ask me that?” He frowned down at me, “have you done something wrong?” 

Even in the dim light the bedside table lamp gave off I could still make out his furrowed brow. 

“You were angry at me earlier.” 

“Yes,” he simply said. 

He stroked my hair again before continuing. 

“We needed to talk business and I’m not used to having company here unless I’m off the clock. You didn’t do as you were told and I wasn’t going to argue with you. But I shouldn’t have shouted, so I’m sorry.” 

“Oh.” 

He stayed sitting beside me, looking at me. I didn’t mind it, in fact I liked it, but when was he going to go? 

“Unless you want me to punish you?” He asked. 

Part of the reason I hadn’t been able to sleep was because I had been waiting for him to pay me a visit up here. I knew for a fact I wouldn’t get back to sleep if he left here and we still had unfinished business. I felt a strong, pulsing ache between my legs at just the thought of having my oversized t-shirt come nighty flipped up right now, being rolled onto my front and him just having at it, letting loose. Fuck it, we were both consenting adults. I’d had enough of these games. I pulled back the duvet, impulsively grabbed his hand and pressed it brazenly against my naked pussy. 

“Laura,” he warned me, in a low voice, though he didn’t remove his hand. 

“Why not?” I asked. 

It was maddening, feeling his hand warm and heavy on my pussy, but not making an effort to pleasure me. I ground my groin into his hand and now he did remove his hand. 

“Stop,” he said. 

It was one small, firm word, but it was absolutely infuriating. I felt anger bubble up inside me at his rejection. 

“So you’ll spank me but you won’t fuck me? It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“I'll hurt you.” 

“Hurt me? That’s rich. Can’t you see you’re already hurting me?” 

He held his hands far away from me, in his lap. The distance between us seemed to stretch on like a yawning chasm. 

“Don’t start being a cunt just because you’re not getting your way,” he eventually said. 

“I’m being serious, don’t you want to fuck me?” 

“I wouldn’t like this, coming into your room in the night like some kind of predator.” 

“I kinda like it.” 

He let out a short snort of laughter. 

“If I were you, I’d shut the fuck up now. I’m not going to fuck you. But I’m definitely going to give you something. Roll over onto your front.” 

I flashed a grin at him then obeyed. 

“Still think you got your way?” 

He asked, pushing the hem of my t-shirt up my waist and smacking his palm down on my naked cheek. The sound it made was incredibly impolite at such a late, quiet hour. 

“Girls under my watch wear underwear when they go to bed,” he said, punctuating his words with more smacks. “And they don’t dare to fucking touch themselves.” 

The smacks got harder. 

“I didn’t!” I gasped. 

“Oh no you didn’t. You tried to get me to. Like I’m your bitch. Let me be very clear. There is only one bitch round here and it’s not me.” 

He gave a particularly hard volley of smacks, for which he had to hold me down to make me take. 

“Get on your hands and knees.” 

I heard him rise from the bed and go into one of the drawers, when he returned to me I felt something small, hard and wooden tap my swollen pussy lips. I jerked out of position and onto my back. 

“No, no,” I repeated, covering myself down there with my hands to defend myself. 

To my embarrassment he had made me take the wooden spoon with me when I’d packed this morning. 

“You’re gonna get it, one way or another,” he said, “just three on your cunt. You can survive that, can’t you? We can do it like this with your legs spread or you can get back into position. I have to say, this isn’t your most glamorous pose.” 

I swore then went back on my hands and knees. 

“Good girl,” he praised, “spread your legs even further. Show me that dirty, needy cunt.” 

My heart pounded as I spread my knees. Even though the lighting in the room was low, I was still giving him the clearest view he must have ever had of my pussy. I quivered in anticipation, waiting for the first whack of the unforgiving spoon. 

“One,” he counted on delivering the first. 

It stung, yet hurt so good. Wow, I had reached new lows. 

“You count the rest,” he said then let loose with the second. 

I obediently counted the second and the third, crying out the numbers. 

“Stop whimpering and get back into bed,” Ray ordered. 

He carefully placed the wicked spoon on the bedside table, no doubt as a warning to me. 

“Two new house rules,” he said to me, “First, I decide what you wear to bed. Second, I also decide when your cunt gets attention. Understood?” 

“Yes,” I said, resisting the urge to rub my warm, tingling flesh in front of him. 

“You can call me Sir.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“That term of address does suit me,” he said with a sigh. 

Then he leaned over me, tucked the sheets around me and kissed the top of my head. 

“Goodnight,” he said as he turned off the lamp, drowning me in darkness and


End file.
